


You Can Go Your Own Way

by Alice_Writes_Stuff



Series: These Cold Vienna Nights [1]
Category: Ashes to Ashes (UK TV), Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biphobia, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Alternating, Period Typical Attitudes, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2019-10-13 12:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_Writes_Stuff/pseuds/Alice_Writes_Stuff
Summary: Chris has been in a state of near constant confusion since 1972, and it's only when he's with his best friend that things start to make sense.Ray doesn't like to keep secrets from people- but when the biggest one he's ever had comes to the surface, he may have to find a way to hide it.In one instant, things change between them forever. But, when tragedy strikes, a fresh start looks ideal. Until that fresh start begins to threaten the one thing they never expected to lose, anyway...(Spoilers for episodes 3x08 of Ashes To Ashes, 2x08 of Life On Mars and 1x01 of Ashes To Ashes)





	1. The New Kid In Town

**A.N- So, this one is gonna be very different from my other Ashes To Ashes fics. It is a part of the "These Cold Vienna Nights" series, but it is a prequel of sorts for the other fics in that series. It will also be much darker, and deal with more serious issues. That being said, I hope you guys still enjoy it. Don't forget to read and review!**

Chapter One- Chris

_Depending on where you began the story, it was about P.C Chris Skelton. More specifically, it was about the day he died, and about his boss, the man who was responsible for killing him._

_It was over in five minutes, barely. A shouted command. A whistle. A hail of bullets. And that was all it took. P.C Skelton fell, he died, and that was the end of the matter._

_Or at least, it should've been. And, as far as everyone else was concerned, it was. For Chris, on the other hand, it was only the beginning..._

"Are you alright there, love?" a concerned voice spoke. Chris sat up groggily, and looked around. Where had the rest of his team gone? Where was the man who'd shot him? What had happened to him, to everyone? A dozen questions flooded his mind, and it was a while before he could answer the one he'd been asked. He got to his feet, picking up his helmet and putting it back on. The old woman who'd spoke to him smiled warmly.

"Sorry about that," he said. "I don't know what happened." That part was true, at least. He really didn't know what had happened to him. It had probably just been a bad dream, but that didn't really explain how he'd ended up in the middle of the street.

"D'you need me to phone anybody?" Chris shook his head.

"Nah, I should probably just get to work. My boss'll kill me if I'm late again." _It's a tad late for that_ , he thought, but chased it away almost immediately. There had to be some explanation for this- he wasn't dead. It was only a dream. But it had felt so real...

As he walked down the street, trying to make sense of what had happened, he caught sight of a newspaper sitting on a bench. He picked it up, and immediately knew something was wrong. The front page story was three years old, and the date at the top read, plain as day, "14th February, 1972 ."

Chris threw down the newspaper and looked around. This had to be a nightmare, it just had to be. It was too crazy to be real. He pinched his arm as hard as he could, wincing at the pain it caused. Alright, so maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe it was just a mistake- maybe someone had just grabbed an old paper by mistake, and left it behind. If it hadn't been for the story, he would probably have just thought it was a typing error. Someone had typed 1972 when they'd meant to put 1975. It was an easy mistake to make, he supposed. But that story... that could not be so easily explained.

Standing up from the bench, Chris decided to make his way to the nearest newsagent's. Once he managed to see the rest of today's papers, he'd know for sure that he wasn't actually back in time. That would be one less thing for him to worry about, he supposed.

Eventually, he found a newsagent's shop, and went inside.

"Constable," the man behind the counter greeted. Chris nodded politely, having forgotten until then that he was still in his uniform. The uniform that should be slick with blood right now, but instead was intact. For a minute, he looked around, trying to find where the magazines and newspapers were stocked. There wasn't anyone else in the shop, and there was no sound other than the radio.

_The sailors say Brandy, you're a fine girl,_  
_What a good wife you would be,_  
_Yeah your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea._

The song had come out a couple of years ago, and it should've served as another warning sign to Chris. But he wasn't thinking about that- after all, there was nothing unusual about playing slightly older songs on the radio, was there?

It wasn't until he located the newspapers that he really knew something was wrong. Though they didn't all have the same story, the same date- 14th February, 1972- was printed on all of them. There was no use denying it now. Something was very, very wrong here.

Quickly, he left the shop and started making his way to work. Maybe someone there would be able to explain what had happened. As he walked through the streets, however, the memories of what had happened to him grew hazier and hazier. It was like his life and death in 1975 had been a dream, and this was him waking up now. The more he walked, the more optimistic he felt. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

Then, he actually reached the Manchester and Salford police station. And that was when he went from slightly dazed and confused to absolutely bewildered in all of about two minutes.

The first point of confusion came from the desk sergeant. Chris had never seen her before, which made no sense. The bloke who'd been the desk sergeant the last day he'd come here had been working there for over twenty years. If he'd been missing at any point three years ago, Chris would've definitely noticed. Nervously, he approached her.

"Excuse me, miss... er... ma'am... er..." He trailed off. He'd never been particularly confident, especially when it came to talking to strangers. The woman sighed, and looked up from her crossword.

"W.P.C Dobbs'll do, lad." She looked at him a little more closely. "Are you P.C Skelton?" He nodded, his name and rank being the only things he was certain of in that moment. "Right, well, in that case, you'd better come with me. D.C.I Hunt wants to see you." D.C.I Hunt? Who was he? Chris didn't know, but he didn't want to ask. Instead, he followed W.P.C Dobbs through various doors and corridors, which should have felt far more familiar than they did. The problem was, of course, that all of the people were strangers. He should have known them, but he didn't. Not even the pretty brunette he spotted as they went past the kitchen area- and he was certain that he wouldn't forget someone like her in a hurry.

"Who's that? The girl with the dark brown hair, I mean?" he asked, though even as he said it, he knew that he wouldn't be brave enough to do anything with the information. At the most, he'd smile at her, possibly say hello, but that would be it.

"That's Annie," she explained. By now, they'd reached the door of the CID department. "Alright, in you go." She opened the door, and Chris stepped in. Another room full of strangers greeted him. It was enough to chase any thoughts of pretty W.P.Cs far from his mind. He wondered why exactly he'd been told to come up here, and he was about to ask when one of the man called out to him.

"Take off your helmet, mate, you look like a right div!" He'd forgotten about the helmet until now, and quickly took it off. Looking around the room, he saw that the voice belonged to an older man, with light brown hair and a moustache. He was holding a cigarette, which struck Chris as odd- nobody in his old department was allowed to smoke at work, or drink. Yet the way this man was holding his was so casual, like he wasn't afraid of being caught with it. Part of him wanted to go up to him and ask about it. Which was funny- he could talk to a bloke he'd never met about his smoking habits, but he was too nervous to say hello to a girl. But before he could say anything, the door of the small office at the opposite side of the room swung open.

Whatever Chris had been expecting D.C.I Hunt to be like, the man who emerged from the office wasn't it. He was a little taller, and he was also smoking, a glass half full of scotch in his free hand. He didn't look like somebody you wanted to get on the wrong side of.

"A word in your shell-like, pal," he muttered. He stepped back into his office, and Chris followed, afraid of what might happen if he didn't. A file was sitting on top of the desk, and after finishing his drink, D.C.I Hunt went to sit behind it, flipping through the pages. "You can sit down, y'know," he said, and Chris did as he was told, almost falling off the chair in the process. "Bloody hell, you'd think you were the bloody Yorkshire ripper or something, not a copper looking at a promotion."

"Sorry?" Chris asked, blinking in confusion. D.C.I Hunt flipped to a certain page of the file.

"Why else did you think I'd told you to come here? So we could chat about the weather?" He sighed. "Look, it says 'ere that yer a transfer from another department, and they reckon you've done enough to get bumped up to Detective Constable. But I can't just take their word for it, can I? So, I reckon I'll give you a couple months, see how you get on. Sound fair?" Chris didn't know what to say, so he just nodded. "Right, you get to your desk, there should be some reports there you can 'ave a look at." Chris got to his feet, and left the office, every bit as clumsy and awkward as he had been when he first entered.

He found his desk, and sat down. It wasn't until then that the full weight of everything hit him. Even if he didn't understand how or why any of this had happened, the facts were still there. This morning, he had died, then he'd woken up, and somehow he was both alive and back in 1972. There was no way he could explain any of it, not without sounding daft, and trying to get his mind around it was just giving him a headache. He felt confused, lost, and a bit sick. He had to get out of here, but he couldn't move... He couldn't breathe, he couldn't...

"Mate, are you alright?" He looked up. It was the detective from earlier, the one who'd called him a div. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Come on, let's go." He led the way out of the department, all the way out of the building, to a wall outside. For a minute or two, they were both quiet, leaning against the wall. The man held out his hand.

"I'm Ray, by the way." Chris nodded, and shook his hand.

"Chris," he said, not sure what else to say. Ray pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

"You could probably use one of these," he explained, handing one to Chris.

"I don't smoke," he said, all too aware that he probably sounded painfully boring. "My old boss didn't let us, and I'm not exactly the rebellious type, so..." He handed the cigarette back. For a moment, their fingertips brushed in the exchange, and their eyes met. For a moment, a thought flashed through his mind- _Have we met before? Because it feels like I've always known you, and I always will. Then it was gone._

They stayed for a few more minutes, neither of them saying much. Eventually, Ray stepped away from the wall.

"Right, I'm gonna head back in. D'you wanna come with me?" Chris nodded, and they walked back into the building. "Y'know, you didn't have to say yes. You could've stayed out of you'd wanted."

"I know," he replied. "I wanted to come in, though. It's a bit cold out." To be perfectly honest, he hadn't actually noticed. Even though he and Ray hadn't talked a lot, he'd liked standing with him. It had been the closest he'd come to feeling normal since he'd left for work this morning.

They made it back to CID. Just before Chris opened the door, Ray stopped him.

"Listen, mate. I don't know what was up with you earlier, or why you're so jumpy in general. But you seem like a decent bloke, and I'm sure once you've been here a while, you'll calm down and things'll get easier. In the meantime, though, if you stick with me, and you trust the Guv, we'll get you through it the best we can. But you've gotta work with us, mind. Otherwise there's no point." Chris nodded, and they went back into the office.

"Glad you decided to return to us, Raymondo. And you, Christopher. Now, if you two aren't too busy, we've got some scum to clean up."

"D'you want me to come too?" Chris asked. D.C.I Hunt- the Guv- nodded.

"Yes, I would. How else am I meant to see what you'll be like as a D.C?" The three of them left, the Guv now wearing a long brown coat.

Chris may not have known much, as he got into the back of the brown Ford Cortina which had been parked outside the building. He may not have known what he was doing here. He may not know what had happened to him. He may not even know what was waiting at the end of this car ride. But despite everything, he was alive, and he wasn't alone, and for the time being, that was all he needed. Nothing else mattered.


	2. I'm Not In Love

**A.N: So, it's been a while, hasn't it? I didn't mean to abandon this fic, and I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to update it. The last few months have been pretty full-on, but now I'm on holiday, so I will hopefully have more time to write. We'll see how that goes. Anyway, as usual I own nothing, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to read and review!**

Chapter Two- Ray

_Depending on where you began the story, it was about D.S Ray Carling. More specifically, it was about the afternoon that Sam Tyler almost got him killed for the second time in less than a year, and the evening that followed._

The evening itself began just like any other. Ray was sitting at a table in the Railway Arms, along with the Guv, Chris, Tyler and Cartwright. Normally, Ray wouldn't be too keen on having a bird sitting with them like this. But after everything the five of them had been through this year, having Cartwright there felt right. Tyler, on the other hand, he wasn't quite so sure about. It didn't seem likely that he'd ever truly get on with him- they were far too different for that. But Ray had to admit, at this moment, it was hard to hate him as much as he usually did. Because, while Sam Tyler may be the reason he had a bullet in his arm, he was also the reason that bullet wasn't lodged somewhere a bit more vital, like his head. Besides- it was a bit hard to stay angry at someone when they were paying for your drinks.

If he was being completely honest, he wasn't that interested in either Tyler or Cartwright just now. Chris had just finished his second glass of scotch, and had just poured himself a third. Ray didn't blame him- the day had been tough for all of them, but he'd taken it all particularly hard. Ray also knew that he should probably have found his friend's behaviour earlier bloody pathetic and annoying. Instead, all he'd been able to think was, _If those bastards shoot him, I'll kill them all._ It might have been strange, if he hadn't spent the last year or so thinking things like that. He couldn't explain it, or more to the point, he didn't want to. Truth was, he knew exactly what his feelings were concerning Chris. He just wasn't going to do anything about them, for a number of reasons. He wasn't _like that._  Neither of them were _like that_ , and they couldn't afford to be, either.

"I'd better head home, it's getting late," Cartwright said, setting down her glass and getting to her feet. Tyler stood up too.

"I'll walk you back, alright?" She nodded, and they started gathering their things. The Guv looked from Tyler to Cartwright and back again.

"Right, Gladys, don't do anything I wouldn't do. No, actually, do do what I'd do- you could use a good shag." Ray glanced at Chris, knowing that they were both thinking the same thing- _he's not wrong_. Cartwright blinked at them.

"It's just a walk up the road, Guv. It's not like we're getting married." Tyler sighed, and shook his head.

"Honestly, sometimes it's like working with a bloody teenager." He rolled his eyes and turned back to Cartwright. "Anyway, we should get going. See you all tomorrow." They left, and shortly after the Guv went back to the bar to get some more drinks, leaving Ray alone with Chris at their table, which was just bloody fantastic. For a moment, he wasn't sure what to say.

"Sorry about Cartwright," he said finally. Chris just frowned at him, clearly confused. He often looked a bit confused about one thing or another, being completely honest. "Didn't you say you were keen on her a while ago?" That earned him another frown, and a shake of of the head.

"Nah, that's old news." Ray was about to ask another question, when Chris knocked back his drink and continued. "Besides- it was never that serious anyway. I like girls with dark hair- it's just a preference thing, it doesn't mean anything, not really. I'm sure someday it will, but not with Annie. I don't mind, though- I've kinda got my eye on someone else right now."

"That's good- let me guess, another brunette, or are you gonna branch out this time?" Chris shook his head, looking like he was trying not to laugh.

"You could say that, yeah." Now it was Ray's turn to be confused. "And you lot act like I'm the daft one. I mean, I literally have my eye on someone else right now, someone I really like." Realisation began to dawn, realisation and horror. Ray realised that he had two options- he could either engage with this, suggest that they left the pub and had a proper chat about it, or he could shut it down faster than a dodgy drug deal. It was obvious which one to pick.

"You're pissed. And you've had a long day. You don't know what you're saying- if you did you wouldn't be saying it. Now, I don't know what you want, but you're not gonna get it. And if you have any sense at all, you won't go looking for it either." For a moment, Chris looked like a kicked puppy, then his expression changed to cold, determined anger.

"You can be a right git sometimes, you know that?" He shook his head. "Look, forget I said anything." He stood up, and shrugged on his jacket. "I'm going home- tell the Guv I said night." With that, he strode out of the pub, leaving Ray to wish that he'd gone for the first option instead. Just then, the Guv came over, carrying three whiskey glasses.

"Where's Chris off to, then?" he asked, setting the glasses down and taking a seat.

"He's gone home, Guv. Don't reckon he'll be coming back." He wondered if the Guv knew anything, if he'd heard what had happened. If he hadn't, then Ray was certainly not about to fill him in on the details.

"Alright then. Well, if you don't mind, I reckon I'll have his whiskey- waste not want not, eh?" Ray nodded, and glanced at the door. A wild, daft thought was beginning to form in his mind, and before he could analyse it properly, he was already on his feet. "Where are you off to, then?" the Guv asked.

"Home," he said, simply. "I think," he added, not knowing exactly how this was going to go. Grabbing his jacket, he left.

It was dark outside, but even so, he saw Chris straight away, leaning against the wall of the pub. Why hadn't he gone home? Never mind, it didn't matter. Ray started to walk towards him, to say something. No sooner had he opened his mouth, though, Chris spotted him, and started to walk away.

"Wait." He reached out and grabbed his arm, turning him round so they were facing each other. In the light from the street lamps, Ray could see the tracks of tears on his friend's face, and had to fight the urge to wipe them away. Not here, he had to remind himself. Not where it's so public. Not where anyone could wander past and see. "Come on," he said, leading them round to the side of the pub, down an alleyway where nobody would notice them.

"What's-" Chris started to say, but before he could continue, Ray used his good arm to pull him close, and kissed him. It was over far sooner than he'd have liked- not that he'd given the matter much thought, of course. Definitely not. "What was that for?" Chris asked, once he'd pulled away. Ray didn't know how to answer him- he really hadn't thought this far ahead. He said as much to Chris, who was quiet for a moment, before nodding. "Alright then- well, in that case I should probably head home- I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" He nodded, and they parted ways, Ray taking the long way home and trying to work out where exactly they went from here.

The situation was incredibly dangerous, that much went without saying. While they weren't technically breaking any laws or anything like that, it didn't matter. They'd still get their heads kicked in no matter what Westminster had to say about it. Which would be fine if it was just him- he could easily hold his own in a fight, no problem. But Chris was another matter entirely. While he had definitely gotten a lot braver since he'd joined A-Division last year, and had earned his promotion to DC, he could still be a bit pathetic at times- as today's events had shown. Although, that had probably had more to do with the fact that they'd been getting shot at than anything else- for whatever reason, that much gunfire always seemed to make him a bit panicky, even if it was just on the telly. Either way, it didn't matter. They wouldn't have to worry about getting into fights, because they weren't going to have any sort of relationship other than the friendship they'd had up till now.

But even as he thought it, Ray knew what would end up happening. He'd get into work tomorrow, and Chris would be there, wanting to know if he'd thought any more about what had happened. And his resolve would crumble before he knew what was what, and it would all be over. Which would then lead to a whole heap of other problems, and honestly, by this point the whole thing was starting to seem like more trouble than it was worth. But it was too late to turn back now, and he wasn't getting anywhere trying to sort it out on his own. He'd have to talk to someone else, and since the Guv wasn't an option, and there was no way he was about to talk to Cartwright about this, that only left him with one, unthinkable option. He was going to have to ask Tyler for advice.

The next morning, he came into work, resolved to do exactly that. Tyler wasn't there when he got in- neither was Cartwright, come to think of it. They must've taken the Guv's advice after all. Chris was in though, but he didn't say anything other than hello. No mention of last night, and no obvious change in his behaviour. Maybe he did have some common sense after all. Ray sat down at his desk, and it was only then that he noticed the full mug of tea sitting there waiting for him. He knew who must've put it there, though he wasn't sure how he felt about it. His suspicions were confirmed when he looked over at Chris's desk, and was met with a smile and a small shrug. So how he was meant to take that was anyone's guess. Finally, Tyler and Cartwright came into the department, and shortly after, the Guv poked his head out the door of his office.

"Dorothy, Cartwright, so good of you to finally join us." They both muttered apologies, and went to their desks. And, to avoid any whinging from Tyler about aggravating their injuries or whatever, that was where they all spent their morning, sorting through the various forms that had been gathering dust on their desks. It wasn't long before Ray saw exactly why they'd all been ignoring them- and, shortly after, he was tempted to make up some kind of emergency, just so they'd have something to do.

Finally, they took a break for lunch, and he had an opportunity to speak to Tyler alone.

"Can I have a word?" Tyler frowned, but nodded, and they went into the Lost Property room. It maybe wasn't the most private place- someone could easily walk in at any point- but it was the best they could do.

"What's this about?" Tyler asked. "Are you going to give me another reminder that I don't belong here? Cause as of yesterday, I'm staying here for the foreseeable future, so we're gonna have to get used to each other."

"It's not about that. It's about Chris." Already, he was starting to see that this was a really, really bad idea. Unfortunately, though, he didn't have anything better, so he had to press on. Once he made himself start talking, though, it was surprisingly easy to continue. Before he knew it, he was telling Tyler everything- or at least, as much as he needed to know in order to understand the situation. Because, at the end of the day, he was still Tyler, and he didn't need to know absolutely everything.

"Can I ask you something?" Tyler asked after a moment of silence. Ray nodded. "While I'm honoured that you chose me to come out to, why did you pick me? We've never exactly gotten along."

"I didn't know who else to talk to. The Guv would go mental if he found out, and it's not the sort of thing I could tell Cartwright, and I don't really know anyone else well enough, so that left you." He was quiet for a moment. "So," he said eventually, "what do I do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that- what do I do about all this?" Tyler shook his head. "I've got to put a stop to what's going on, haven't I? I just don't know how I go about it."

"Look, I'm not sure I'm qualified to help you here- I've had a couple of gay co-workers back in Hyde, and things were very different for them. I can't fully grasp the problems that you'd face being in a relationship here, and that's putting it mildly. But it could be done, if you were determined to make it work. Obviously, that's not a decision I can make for you. I mean, it looks like you're both interested, so it's up to you what you do with that information going forward."

"Right, well then, that clears that up."

"Look, what d'you want me to say? I could tell you to follow your heart, or whatever, but I know it's not that simple. And I'm not sure what else to say to you, either." Ray shook his head.

"I just wish it wasn't so bloody difficult. He deserves better than this."

"You both do," Tyler replied. "And I want to say that it'll get better, but from what I remember, it won't really, not for a long time." Tyler did this a lot, talking like he knew things they didn't, things that nobody should be able to know. It was easily one of the weirder things about him. There were, of course, a lot of weird things about Tyler, but his time traveller act was definitely a big one. "I think you should really talk this through with Chris before you go any further. Make sure you're both on the same page, have an understanding about what you do and don't want, all that stuff. Try and do that sooner, rather than later."

"Alright." Ray checked his watch. "We should probably get back to work, lunchtime's almost over." Tyler nodded, and they left the Lost Property room.

There were several opportunities throughout the rest of the day where he could've pulled Chris aside and talked to him. In the end, though, he spent most of the day putting it off, until it was time to leave the pub. For once, he was actually glad for the fact that his arm was still injured, because it have him an opportunity to speak to Chris alone.

"Could I get a lift up the road? I can't really drive at the moment, and I don't feel like walking." Tyler raised an eyebrow , clearly ready to start another lecture about the dangers of drinking and driving. Before he could get started, though, they were already out the door. They walked in silence until they reached the car, a tense, slightly awkward silence- and for once Chris made no attempt to break it, not until he was sitting behind the wheel.

"So..." he began. "We should probably talk about last night, yeah?"

"Let's wait until we're up the road, alright? There's a lot to talk about." Chris nodded, and switched the radio on. He adjusted the dial until he found a station that was playing music. He found one soon enough, though just as quickly, Ray wished that he hadn't

 _I've been really trying, baby,_  
_Trying to hold back this feeling for so long..._

Oh. Bloody. Hell. Of all the bloody songs that could be playing, it had to be that one. He couldn't even look at Chris, knowing he'd probably see his own feelings reflected on his face.

"I'll... I'll change it."

"Leave it, you'll just get something worse." They both reached for the dial at the same time, their fingers brushing. Ray couldn't help it- he had to look at Chris. For a moment, their eyes met, and it was in that same moment that Ray knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was no going back. He was passing the point of no return, so fast that it almost didn't register. They kept driving a little longer, Marvin Gaye still singing in the background, going on about how love could never be wrong. Bloody easy for him to say.

"Sod it," Chris muttered, pulling over into an empty car park. Before Ray could ask what he was playing at, he'd already leaned over and kissed him. It was a bit clumsier and more awkward than the first one, which he supposed was only natural, considering the angle and everything. There was also the matter of his arm, which he was reminded of when he tried to move it. He winced. "You okay?" Chris asked, before moving so that he was facing forward again. Great- that was that moment gone, and even though he knew it was daft, he couldn't help blaming Tyler anyway. It was sort of a go-to reaction at this point, it couldn't be helped.

"This is probably a bad idea," he said eventually.

"Yeah, probably."

"But, loads of things are probably bad ideas- and people probably still do them all the time. "

"That's true."

"So there's no reason why we couldn't do this, bad idea or not."

"No, I suppose there isn't." Chris was quiet for a moment. "Do you want to, then?" Ray nodded, and after another moment or two Chris started the car and they drove away, for the time being not thinking about the consequences of this development, and just enjoying the present moment. They had the rest of their lives to think about the future- there was no need to bother right now.


End file.
